A Tale of Two Monsters
by themagdelene
Summary: An AU Fan Fiction set in Paris, mixing Phantom of the Opera and Hunchback of Notre Dame. It is mostly using the Disney movie, but since they didn't have it on the movies section, I had to use the book. Read and Review. Meg/Erik and Esmeralda/Quasimodo.
1. He's here, the Phantom of the Opera

Disclaimer: This is an AU fic in which the Phantom of the Opera is in the same time line as Hunch Back of Notre Dame. All rights belong to Victor Hugo, Disney for various lyrics, and Andrew Lloyd Webber. The pairings are Erik/Meg and Esmeralda/Quasimodo. The song also used is Pet by A Perfect Circle.

Quasimodo was in a deep sleep, dreaming that he was a handsome and suave man from France, with women begging to be with him. Music began to drift into his dream, sounded like...organ music. Slowly, he woke up and stared up at the darkness above him. The music was still playing. He slowly climbed out of bed, his back hunched from his deformity as he lumbered toward the door and let himself out of the bell tower, so he could slink soundlessly down the stairs toward the organ hutch that laid just above the main room of the Church. There was someone playing the organ. Carefully, he crept up the stairs leading to the organ room and stopped near the door, gently pushing it open enough to peer inside. It was really dark, but he could see enough to know that it wasn't the Father playing it, like he sometimes did and the song being played was not any hymn he had ever heard. But it was a beautiful song, sad and mournful. Entranced, he slowly made to step fully into the room but the man at the organ had good hearing and picked up on the shuffling sounds of Quasimodo's feet.

"Who is there?" He said sharply. Quasimodo, in fear and surprise, tripped over his feet and fell backward into the wall.

"I-I-I-I'm s-sorry." Quasimodo shuttered out, hiding in the darkness as he watched the man. "I woke and heard your song. It...It's very beautiful, you don't have to stop."

"Beautiful?" The man gave a bitter laugh. "No, this is nothing but hurt and torment compared to what I used to write." He turned. This man also favored the shadows but only on one half of his face. The side that Quasimodo saw was handsome, covered in the stubble of two days without shaving. "Why do you hide? I don't mean you any harm."

"Why do you hide?" Quasimodo returned, making the man frown. He stayed silent, and as did the Hunchback. "How about I light some candles, and then we can see each other? You'll want to scream, I'm sure, but I ask that you don't. It might wake the Father and he'd be very angry with me." This made Erik stop and think. Why would a man say something like that? If he had something to hide, of course.

"All right, then." The Phantom said slowly. Quasimodo moved heavily around the small room, lighting the few candles that lay about the room. Once they were lit, he kept his back to the man for a moment. Erik looked Quasimodo over from afar, taking in the deformed shape of his back and legs, blinking in surprise. When the young man, probably somewhere between seventeen and twenty from what Erik could tell by his voice, turned and faced him, Erik stared openly. His face looked like a mottled lump of clay, one eye larger then the other and off to one side, while naturally crossed. Quasimodo could also see the Phantom's own deformity, reddened flesh and torn skin that made the skull almost visible through the thin texture of the flesh over the right side of his face. They merely stared at each other for a moment, before Quasimodo spoke first.

"That's not really all that bad, actually. You could wear a mask and hide it, saying you were burned in a fire or something."

"I lost my mask." The Phantom said shortly. He stood up from the organ. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, good monsieur." Quasimodo stayed quiet, watching the man closely. He was dirty and he looked like he hadn't eaten in a couple of days, his clothing tattered and scorched in places. Erik turned to leave but Quasimodo stopped him with a kind word.

"You don't have to leave, either. You look like you could use a small meal. I don't have much but I have enough willing to share with a kindred spirit." Quasimodo smiled, which made him look even uglier if possible but the kindness showed in his clear, blue eyes. "My name is Quasimodo."

"I thank you." The Phantom returned, giving a little nod. "My name is Erik."

"Erik." Quasimodo repeated. "A good, strong name." He smiled again, before turning and leading the way out of the small organ room, toward the stairs that led up to the bell tower.

"You live in the bell tower?" Erik, said mostly to himself as he followed up the stairs. It tickled something in the back of his mind, something he once heard; a rumor of some monster inside Notre dame but this young man wasn't a monster, not any more then Erik was. _But you are a monster,_ said a wicked voice in the Phantom's mind. _You've killed, this man has probably not done anything more wicked then masturbate. _

"Yes, I have lived there my whole life, all of eighteen years." Quasimodo answered as he climbed the stairs. For someone with such a physical deformity, he looked very limber on his feet. When they reached the small apartment settled amongst the bells, Quasimodo shifted nervously from foot to foot as he smiled shyly. "It's not much, I know." He muttered.

"It's very nice, actually." Erik said as he came up to gently tap against the largest bell, making it ring sharply but not enough for it to carry down to the ground. He smiled sadly at Quasimodo. "You're very nice, Quasimodo. It's a shame that you got named such."

"It's not my real name. I am not sure what my real name is." Quasimodo said as he began fixing up a small meal of left over bread and meats, slapping together a sandwich. He normally got fed by Frollo, three times a day but he hadn't eaten very much today, so he had left overs. He brought it to Erik on a small metal plate. "But yes, it is a cruel name." He smiled sadly. "So is my lot in life." Erik smiled half way before turning to the food. He ate quickly. It was a bit stale but it was better then nothing. Quasimodo took a seat across from him.

"Did you get in a fire or something?" Quasimodo asked. He had not yet heard about the Opera Populaire catching fire, nor had he heard about the story of the Phantom of the Opera that was now floating amongst the commoners and the gypsies.

"You could say that." Erik said after swallowing what he had in his mouth, albeit a bit roughly. As he finished off the last of his food, he took a look around. There was various sketches and paintings, but what caught his attention was the little model of the whole city. He even had the Opera Populaire at the edge of the little town, complete with people milling about. "Did you make this?" He said as he stood and walked over to it. Quasimodo hurried after him, smiling.

"Yes, I did. It took me ten years; I started when I was eight." He picked up a small baker man. "This was my first one. See how they have progressed?" He held up the newer one, a small man dressed up like a multicolored jester. "This is Clopin. I have seen him wander around outside the church in his little caravan from time to time, but only here within the last week or so." He shrugged a bit.

"They're all amazing. You have a beautiful craft." Erik said with a smile.

"Not as beautiful as what I heard you playing earlier. I wish I could play the organ, but every time I try, Frollo says that music is the devil's instrument." Quasimodo said sorrowfully. "How could something so beautiful be from the Devil?"

"Well," Erik said with a light half smile. "They say that Lucifer was God's most beautiful angel, but..." He looked off into the starry night sky. "I have seen a more beautiful angel then that."

"Really?" Quasimodo said with a wistful smile, which turned sad. "What happened to her?" Erik gave a stern look in reply, making Quasimodo look away quickly and mutter an apology. The subject obviously hurt Erik, and that had been a tactless question.

"It's late. I should get some sleep." Erik said shortly, before moving to where Quasimodo had set up a small bed. As he laid there, trying to fall into sleep and willing himself to have good dreams, Quasimodo spoke again.

"Are you going to try to go to the festival of fools tomorrow? I am going to sneak down there."

Festival of Fools? It was all ready the sixth of January? He rolled over and looked at Quasimodo, who was looking shy once more. If the young man wanted to go, then that was his business. He shrugged. "I'll probably just hang out here, if it's okay."

"Of course." Quasimodo said with a nod, before moving over to his model and working on another little person. If he had seen the little figurine, then Erik would have recognized it as the small blonde, young woman from the Opera Populaire. Quasimodo had seen her visit the church during Sunday morning mass from time to time within the last month, always with her older mother. She was lovely, but it was taking him a long time to finish this one, since he never got a good look at her. She always sat near the front, and he couldn't get close enough without running the risk of being seen. Unknowing of what he was doing, Erik softly began to sing himself to sleep, like he normally did.

"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me, once in a while; please promise me you'll try. Then you find that once again you long to take my heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment; spare a thought for me."

Quasimodo turned, listening to the song briefly as it faded into silence and was replaced by the soft, whispering snores of his strange new companion. The sorrow in his voice when he sang showed that the woman he spoke of did not die but left him, probably for another man. He shook his head sadly, turning his gaze away and muttering a soft prayer under his breath, praying for the serenity of God to come to his new friend.

Erik slept most of the morning, but when he heard the audible sound of someone sliding down a rope, he woke and was just in time to see Quasimodo's hunched form disappear down a thick rope into the crowd. He frowned heavily, climbing out of the blankets and moving to the large window, looking down into the town square outside the church. This was a wonderful view, and much better then being stuck in those damned catacombs, where Erik couldn't see the moon or stars. _This man is lucky to have such a scene to look upon every morning,_ he thought to himself. He had good eyes, so he could see the interaction between the people even from afar but not enough to satisfy his curiosity. So he stopped and moved away from the window. He almost made it to the table that held the little model city when a knock came on the door.

"Quasimodo? Let me in, lad. It's time for your breakfast, and scripture reading." An older man's voice said from the other side. Erik's eyes widened in shock, before he hurried to the door; mimicking the shuffling footsteps of the Hunchback as he came to the door. When he spoke, it was in a good enough imitation of Quasimodo that Frollo did not notice a difference.

"I'm not feeling very well today, if it is all right."

Frollo nodded slowly. "I understand. I'll just leave the food here, then. You still need to eat." He then left. He had to hurry or he'd be late to the damned festival. He didn't know why he bothered going, but it was one of his duties as Archdeacon. Once he was sure that Frollo was gone, Erik opened the door and pulled the small basket inside. It had a little metal pot of oatmeal, a small loaf of bread, and, to his surprise, a small bunch of grapes. He set the food aside, frowning a bit. There was only enough for Quasimodo when he got back. He looked around the room again and spotted a small, brown fabric sack. He needed to venture out to get some food, possibly enough for both him and Quasimodo for a little while. Cutting open two eye holes, he slipped the mask over his head. It smelt, but nothing too horrid. He climbed into the window and slid down the rope just as Quasimodo had done, landing in a heap next to a small tent. He was just in time to see Quasimodo leave the tent, looking horrified. He was followed by a stately looking gypsy beauty, dark skin and dark hair with vivid green eyes. Erik was struck dumb for a moment.

"By the way, great mask." She said as she winked at Quasimodo, whose hood had gotten knocked back to show his face. She spotted Erik next, taking in his form and smirking a bit. "Keep an eye on this one," She said as she gestured to Quasimodo. "He could get slapped if he keeps falling into people's tents on accident." She winked once more at the Hunchback before disappearing in her tent once more. Erik turned and glared at Quasimodo, moving forward and pulling his hood up again, then arranged his hair around his face.

"You're a fool for doing this." Erik said, sounding much like a scolding older brother. Quasimodo frowned.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was just...so tired of just watching." He said sadly, his eyes turning to look around at the milling people. He spotted the blonde girl he had been watching and smiled. "Look." He said softly, pointing to her. Erik turned and looked, his eyes widening in the burlap sack as he stared. He recognized her by the shape of her toned body, her long curly blonde hair, and her bright brown eyes but what she was wearing what was what shocked him the most.

Her lean body was clad in the suit of a man, complete with red cravat and red waist coat. But it held in places that accented her body and on her face, standing out against the black of her garb, was the white half mask. She looked impressive, and it struck him how lovely she really was. She was watching Clopin dance around, laughing but she had not noticed either of them. A wicked desire crept into his heart, and he whispered to Quasimodo. "I'll be back." Then he disappeared into the crowd, coming up behind Meg and singing softly into her ear.

"Don't fret, precious. I'm here. Step away from the window, and go...back to sleep."

Her body tensed, recognizing the voice instantly but when she turned to look, there was no one there. Erik had been far too quick. She breathed in deeply, shaking her head. She was being silly. Clopin was now on a stage, projecting his voice to get everyone's attention.

"Come one, come all! Hurry, hurry, here's your chance! See the myst'ry and romance! Come one, come all See the finest girl in France!" He winked at Quasimodo and Erik as they came up to the stage, Quasimodo hanging back a little more then Erik was. "Make an entrance to entrance! Dance la Esmeralda! Dance!" Then he threw a large handful of red dust, making a loud explosion and when the smoke cleared, the stately gypsy was standing there and dancing around on stage. Her lean body was clad in a tight fitting red dress, accented with gold in places. Everyone cheered, even Quasimodo but Erik was distracted again by Meg, who was standing not far away. She was dancing too, trying to copy what the gypsy, Esmeralda, was doing. It was different for the ballerina, but she was doing well enough.

"Look at that disgusting display." Sneered Frollo, making Erik look in that direction. The Archdeacon was sitting in a large chair across from the gypsy, but she noticed his sneer and smirking, she leaped across the stage and climbed into the older man's lap, bringing his face close to hers briefly before slapping his hat down over his face. Everyone laughed and Erik smirked. Served the old bastard right.

The rest of the day went on well, but when it came to choosing the King of Fools, Erik made himself scarce and quickly. There was no way he was going to have someone rip off the burlap sack from his face. In his distress, he had forgotten completely about Quasimodo. He spotted Meg again and smirking, came up behind her to tease her again. He put his sack covered mouth directly against her ear this time.

"Why I see her dancing there, why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul?"

This time, however, she was quick enough to turn and grab hold of the sack covering his face, pulling him to her and speaking in a growl of anger. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Enjoying a festival. What about you?" He returned calmly, reaching up to grab her hand and pull it away from his face.

"Isn't it obvious?" Meg replied with a smirk. "Or has madness made you stupid too?"

What a god damned brat! He had an urge to strike her for that, but he stilled his reflex. His attention turned to the stage, where they were removing masks and his eyes widened when he saw Quasimodo up there. Quickly, he left Meg and she called after him, but he ignored her. He would not let his friend be humiliated like that, if he could help it. Meg hurried after him, wondering why he seemed so frantic to get on stage. However, the Phantom was too late. When Esmeralda came to Quasimodo, she pulled at his face and gasped when nothing came off. There was then a surge of activity, shuffling Meg and Erik around until they were all but shoved into each other. "I have got to stop this!" He growled, grabbing hold of her shoulders. They were hauling Quasimodo into a chair, dancing and parading around him. Quasimodo was overwhelmed, thinking they really meant all their praise and chanting. Meg stared at Quasimodo for a moment, before looking into the sack covered face of Erik, the Phantom. She could see the distress in his eyes, the mismatched gaze flickering as he watched Meg.

"Come on." She said as she took his hand and hurried through the crowd, trying to get to where they had finally stopped; next to a circle of wood that had shackles strapped to it. They were stopped briefly by two drunken men.

"Where are you going? Stay for the fun!" The first one slurred while the other eyed Meg lustily. She glared but stayed silent as Erik menaced toward them and said in a low growl.

"Get out of my way or you'll really see a monster."

"Make me, old man!" The other replied. Erik shoved the man to the crowd, just in time to see people start pelting Quasimodo with tomatoes and the like, jeering at him. Erik jumped onto the stage.

"You call him ugly, you call him a monster but you don't know what a MONSTER IS!" He screamed the last words, making them echo over the crowd as he ripped off the sack and there was shrieks of horror at the sight of his deformity, his eyes flashing like a demon's as he jumped into the crowd and began scattering the people. Quasimodo's deformity was extreme, but it was not as horrid looking as Erik's, which made him look like a living skull on one half of his face. Being so distracted by scaring the crowd, he did not notice as Esmeralda jumped onto stage too and began unshackling Quasimodo. Meg hurried forward to where Erik was, once the crowd had been scared away and Quasimodo left, leaving the gypsy watching sadly after him. _If I had known,_ she thought as she moved away and started to head away, _I would not have brought him on stage. I'm such a fool._

Meg stayed quiet as she watched the back of the Phantom, his shoulders heaving with rage. She removed the mask from her face and slowly stepped closer to him, gently touching his shoulder. He turned those fiery eyes to her and she backed away at first, but then steeled herself and stood still. "Well? Is this crazy enough for you, Miss Giry?" He snarled.

"I...I guess I deserve that." She said softly. She went silent, looking down at the mask briefly before holding it out to him. "Would you like this back?" Erik looked down at it for a moment before he reached out and took it from her, slapping it to his face. He breathed in deeply, smelling the faint musk of her flesh on the mask's surface. It was nice and tempting, making him want to lean forward and breathe it in from the source, but he resisted. "You...you should go check on him." She said softly as she gestured to the church. "I would, but...he doesn't know me." She smiled sadly but started when she heard a stern voice. She turned and looked to see her mother making her way toward her. She looked to where Erik was, meaning to tell him to leave, but he was all ready gone, his departing figure seen disappearing into the church.

As she watched him leave, she sang softly under her breath.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera."


	2. Meeting a Real Monster

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Victor Hugo for the original story concept, Disney for this adaptation, Andrew Lloyd Webber for the Phantom of the Opera adaptation and Gaston Leroux for the original story idea.

It took Erik a while to finally get Quasimodo to let him back inside the bell tower, since in his distress, the poor Hunchback had not noticed his new, strange friend knocking at the door. It took even longer to cheer him up. When he finally succeeded, a long silence passed between the two as Quasimodo stared off across the city from his vantage point at the window. "I shouldn't have been so stupid." He muttered.

"It wasn't stupid to want to see the outside world, Quasimodo." Erik said softly, watching the young man with a sorrowful expression on his face. The Hunchback smiled, turning to look at the other man. He was older then Quasimodo easily, by at least five years or more. "Now, I'm going to go and see about finding us some dinner." Erik said as he climbed to his face.

"Aren't you worried that people will accost you? Especially after what you did at the Festival." Quasimodo said as he watched Erik make his way to the door of the bell tower. The Phantom merely smiled in reply before disappearing out the door.

When Erik finally came back, he heard an angelic and sweet voice coming through the door. It was raw in its natural talent, but charming none the less. Slowly, he pushed open the door and let himself inside, seeing Quasimodo standing at his little model city and working on a new figurine. The voice was coming from the throat of the poor, unfortunate soul. "So many times out here, I've watched a happy pair; Of lovers walking in the night. They had a kind of glow around them. It almost looked like heaven's light." Erik smiled, keeping his footsteps soft and silent as he put the small basket down. He leaned to the right to look at the figurine in Quasimodo's talented hands. It was of the gypsy girl.

"I knew I'd never know, that warm and loving glow. Though I might wish with all my might, no face as hideous as my face was ever meant for heaven's light." Quasimodo continued, not noticing the Phantom's appearance yet. He was too focused on the little wooden figure in his hands, carefully finishing off the slopes of her skirt. Then he set aside his knife, picking up the brush and began painting it. "But suddenly an angel has smiled at me. And kissed my cheek without a trace of fright." Erik's heart clenched in his chest. This man had been as cast aside as he was, and it hurt the Phantom to know it. Once it was finished, he set the figurine aside and sighed. "Time to ring vespers." He muttered, then turned and faced Erik. "Erik!" He said, surprised.

"That was nice. You're a good singer." Erik said with a sad little smile.

"Thank you. I only sing hymns, mostly for my own comfort but that was my first attempt at singing anything of my own making." Quasimodo said with a little smile in reply. "What did you think?"

"It was a little rough, mostly because of the rawness of your voice but good, it flowed nicely." Erik said, having very little to criticize about it in all honesty. Quasimodo nodded, before muttering about ringing the bells again and hurrying away to do his job. Erik followed close enough to see those powerful arms pulling at the bells, making them ring. As the Hunchback rang the bells, Erik could hear him finish the song.

"I dare to dream that she might even care for me. And as I ring these bells tonight, my cold dark tower seems so bright. I swear it must be heaven's light!"

The next few days went by without incident. Erik left the sanctuary of the church for the most part, but he did hang around to visit Quasimodo. He was even able to get a job as the church's new organist, mostly with the pleading of Quasimodo with the Archdeacon as help. Frollo had not placed the charming Erik as the same, demonically angry man that had accosted the crowd at the festival of fools, which was now almost a month in the past. Erik was preparing for the evening mass when he heard the first singing he had heard (other then the choir) in almost a month, not counting Quasimodo's heart felt song about heaven's light. It was coming from a near by statue of the virgin and her child. He slowly made his way to it, clad in the hand-me-down robes that the Father had requested he wear during the mass to keep up the decorum of the mass. The song was soulful, beautiful, and the voice was heart wrenchingly lovely. When he came upon the owner of the voice, he saw that it was the gypsy, Esmeralda.

"I don't know if You can hear me or if You're even there. I don't know if You would listen to a gypsy's prayer. Yes, I know I'm just an outcast, I shouldn't speak to you; Still I see Your face and wonder; Were You once an outcast too?" Erik stood by the shadows, watching the gypsy and hounded her footsteps in silence as she walked amongst the candles, continuing her somber song and prayer. "God help the outcasts. Hungry from birth. Show them the mercy, they don't find on Earth. God help my people, we look to you still. God help the outcasts or nobody will." That was when the aristocrats began to flood in for the evening vespers, just before mass. He quickly hid himself in the organ's hutch but stayed close enough to hear what those heretics were praying for now. Some asked for wealth, some asked for fame, some asked for love they could possess but once they were gone, the gypsy (who had wisely hid herself during the mass) came out from the shadows and continued her heart felt plea to God as she came to stand in front of the large, rose window. "I ask for nothing, I can get by. But I know so many, less lucky than I. Please help my people, the poor and down trod. I thought we all were, the children of God." She lifted her head up to the window, the moonlight shining through it and casting its beautiful colors across her lovely face. _God, let her find him; let them find each other,_ Erik thought as he gazed at her from above. _If I cannot find happiness, let Quasimodo find it at least. "_God help the outcasts; Children of God." She finished, before lowering her head and sighing heavily. Unable to help himself, Erik threw his voice out into the empty church's main room, making it echo around them.

"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless. Yearning for my guidance."

Esmeralda jumped and stared around wildly, her eyes widened in shock. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who was surprised because Quasimodo suddenly appeared, having tripped over his own feet in shock and came stumbling into view. "You." She breathed as she saw Quasimodo, who quickly ran from view and she gave chase. "Wait, come back! I want to talk to you!" Erik chuckled, watching the two of them disappear as she chased the Hunchback up the stairs to the upper levels of the church. Shaking his head, Erik turned and removed the robes, setting them aside. He wore his normal clothing underneath, for ease of changing. He went down the stairs of the organ's hutch and out the front door. That was when he came face to face for the first time with the Archdeacon. They merely sized each other up warily for a moment, before Frollo spoke first.

"So, you must be the new organist." He stated simply, barely keeping the sneer out of his voice.

"Oui." Erik replied, his eyes narrowing. He did not like this man, and he made it obvious when he next spoke. "And you must be the Archdeacon. I must say, I'm not impressed."

"You insolent man. Don't you know I'm the one who pays you?" Frollo snarled.

"Not enough for the amount of playing I do." Erik returned loftily. "But I have better things to do then bandy words with a witless worm." He smirked when Frollo glared after him, the Phantom's step almost bouncy as he strode past the irate man and down the stairs. It cheered him up a little to know that there was someone in this world more miserable then him, and pissing him off cheered him up even more. He wandered about the city for a while, stopping to look at the gypsies and even leaving a few gold francs for a few of them. He was on his way home when he heard a shuffle in an alley. Sneaking through the darkness of the night, he came upon the scene. It was Meg again, but she was being assaulted by several cut throats, one with her in his arms while the other went searching through her purse.

"Take whatever you want, just leave me alone!" Meg said desperately, squirming in the arms of the large, rotund man.

"Whatever you say, doll." Drawled the one going through the purse. Erik seethed in anger. Most gypsies relied on their talents to put food on the table, dancing and singing on street corners, or preforming little puppet shows for children but there were some, like these, who made their living from stealing. Picking up a rock near by, Erik threw it with deadly aim and it the man holding Meg square in the head. He shouted, letting go of the woman and she kicked the other man in the shins, before snatching up her purse and running away. They started to give chase, but Erik was hot after their retreating backs. He leapt onto one of them, dragging him down to the ground and his companion turned to look, only to receive another rock in between his eyes, sending him sprawling backward onto the ground. He groaned once, before blacking out while Erik began to pummel the other man with both fists. "Stop stop!" He cried.

"Go find a god damn rich fuck to steal from, not a poor defenseless woman." He snarled, before hefting the man to his feet and throwing him aside. "Now go, and don't let me catch you robbing around here again." The man helped his friend to his feet, before they both hurried away. Meg watched it all happen, her eyes wide with surprise. He looked toward her, keeping a respectful distance. "Are you okay?"

"Oui." She replied in a soft, breathless whisper before coming up to stand in front of him. "Why did you help me?" She asked slowly, still speaking in barely more then a whisper. Erik shrugged lightly.

"I couldn't just let them rob you, could I? They might have taken more then just your money." He said grimly, watching her closely. She shuddered at the piercing gaze of those mismatched eyes, feeling like he was staring straight into her soul. She shifted from foot to foot for a moment, before saying, changing the subject suddenly.

"The young man from the festival; is he all right?"

"Yes." Erik replied. "He has strong faith to help guide him."

"God helps a lot of people, Monsieur Le Fantome." Meg said softly, looking up at him with wide, brown eyes. Erik merely grunted in reply, going quiet as he watched her. It marveled him that he had not noticed how beautiful she was sooner. Her skin like the white wings of a dove, her hair the golden color of the sun. He wondered how it would feel in his hands as he caressed it, tenderly kissing her mouth. He shook the images out of his mind, speaking in a low voice.

"Do you need someone to walk you back home? It is not safe for a young woman your age to be wandering around on her own." Meg stayed quiet as she considered his request, nervousness in her person as she looked down at her hands. She wanted to accept his offer, but she was still terribly afraid of him, especially after what had happened at the Opera Populaire. She looked into his face, half of which was covered by the white mask as his now long bangs hung over his eyes. It was a shame his whole face was not as handsome as his left side, especially with the toned shape of his body that was now clad in a simple pair of brown pants with a poet styled white shirt and a brown leather vest, patched in places with darker leather. With a voice like his and that body, he should be able to have whatever woman he wanted but his devilish rage and that deformity kept it from happening. Slowly, she nodded her consent and he came to walk along side her, a silent sentinel for several blocks until he spoke. "Have you and your mother been fairing well?"

"For the most part, yes. She just recently got a teaching job at the ballet school not far from the church, hence why we have started going to mass again. She stopped when my father died, but..." Meg broke off, going silent suddenly. It pained her to talk of her father, whom she lost about two months before Christine lost hers and they all went to live and work at the Opera House. Erik gave a sad smile.

"You don't have to tell me anymore. I remember when your father died. Your mother was...very distraught." He went silent for a moment, before continuing on. "I tried my best to comfort her, but she shunned me." He gave a bitter laugh. "Who wouldn't shun me, anyways? Horrid, wretched beast that I am." Meg was quiet for a moment, looking at him in thought. He looked so terribly lonely in that moment, his eyes darkened and downcast. Her heart swelled in her chest as she pitied him.

"But...you're sorry for what you have done, right?" She said hesitantly, stopping in the middle of the small road they were walking along.

"I'd do anything to take back what I did." Erik said, turning his gaze toward her. "Then maybe Christine would not have left with that...that...fop." He snarled. He obviously still held feelings for Christine and bitter feelings toward Raoul.

"When I was young, my father always told me that God will-" She started to say but Erik was quick to turn bitter and cold once more, all but snarling his next words at her.

"If God was merciful as you say, then would he have let me rot in that god forsaken hellhole for as long as I did?" Meg was shocked into silence, starting to walk once more. They walked for about two more blocks in silence, before Erik spoke once more. "I am sorry, Meg." He said, grief in his voice. "I should not have said such, it wasn't fair of me. I know you were just trying to help." He gave a half smile, which she returned hesitantly.

"It's okay." She replied. "The only advice I can give to you, Erik, is to pray about it. God is always willing to forgive, even...lost souls like you." She gave a slow smile, stopping once more in her pace to turn and look at him. Erik gave a stoic nod, not saying anything and she sighed faintly, turning to start walking once more. The rest of the trip was spent in silence and when they finally reached her home, a small house at the edge of town (about two miles from the church, not far enough for a carriage but far enough to be a long walk), she stopped at the door and looked at him. "Thank you for walking me home...but I fear I still don't know your name." Erik chuckled softly, coming to stand in front of her.

"Erik." He said softly.

"Erik." She repeated and he found that he liked the way she said his name. She had a slight English accent, probably from having grown up in London when she was young before coming to France, and it made his name sound beautiful, lyrical even. "Well, thank you, Erik." She held her hand out to him, smiling slowly. He had been very kind and genial with her, albeit a little quiet; not at all like the horrid, snarling beast that she had expected. He reached out and took her hand, leaning down and kissing it politely. She flushed. For some reason, the normally polite gesture seemed so much more intimate when he did it.

"Thank you for letting me accompany you, Miss Giry." He soothed, before releasing her hand and disappearing into the night. As he walked back to the small boarding house he was staying in, he relished the faint taste of her flesh on his lips and the smell that he had scented coming from her skin.

Lavenders and lilies, that is what remained in his nose and mind for the rest of the night, even going so far as to tease him in his dreams as he slept.


End file.
